On Wings Like Eagles
by lil cornelius
Summary: With Woad, Roman, Sarmatian, and Saxon blood coursing through her veins, a steadfast devotion to her God and her companions, and an unwavering faith placed upon Britain and its people, Benedicta Certus finds herself in the middle of a war between her people for a land she believes is destined to be ruled by one king and one king alone.
1. Chapter 1

Prologue:

By 300 AD, the Roman Empire extended from Arabia to Britain. But they wanted more. More land. More people loyal and subservient to Rome. Those who opposed them were conquered and those who they could not conquer were made allies. Yet these people were only servants called by another name for Rome became as much a domineering force as their countries' individual empires.

For many, Rome was the delivering hand their country needed. For others, it was only an escape. Many joined the Roman military and left their homeland. Poor. Rich. Orphans. Outcasts. Traitors.

My men were such people.

Too late were they made aware that they had escaped one hell to enter another.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

The cold air was a warm welcome that she had not grown accustomed to missing even in the year that she had been away from this beautiful land. The weather of Britain was unstable. Two weeks ago upon landing their ship on the British shore, the day had been bright and the air warm. In the day that followed, grey, menacing clouds had gathered and hail had fallen from the dark skies above them soon followed by a day of snow. Days later, it had rained without seize, causing the snow to melt away or turn to ice.

Before her, down the high drop that she gazed from atop, a vast distance of blue trees resting upon grey hills expended to the horizon. A white mist covered the woods and gave the landscape a mysterious appeal.

By God, she had missed this place.

An amused smirk crept up her face. Yes, this place was an appropriate hide out for the so called "blue ghosts".

The sound of hooves drew louder as they rapidly approached. Five horses mounted by five men came to a stop next to her. "Now I remember why I hate Britain," said Aurelius grimly as he halted his horse to her left. He beckoned forward. "There is a storm brewing ahead."

Sure enough, dark clouds were gathering in the horizon. It was only a matter of time before they were upon them. She glanced at her men. They were tired and hungry as she was also. These last two weeks had been long and exhausting, with little rest and comfort. Night was drawing near, as was the storm. They needed to rest and regain their strength for she knew, with no easy heart, that this journey was only the beginning of many hardships to come.

"What is the matter, Aurelius?" Alcaeus asked teasingly, almost derisively."Cannot stand a little foul weather? And here I thought Romans could withstand anything."

Another voice, quieter, yet no less firmer spoke before Aurelius could answer to the remark. "If such were true, the Romans would stay and fight instead of abandoning Britain and leaving it to the Saxons."

Acacius nodded at Percival's words. "Even the Romans, stubborn as they are, see no reason in staying."

Aurelius, who had been occupied sending hostile glares at Alcaeus, returned his attention back at the scenery bellow. He sighed. "They leave and we come. I question whether we will be of any help. The Saxons are many in number and with the Romans leaving, it all seems like a lost cause."

"And that is why we are here on an important mission, Aurelius," she reminded him. Her gaze bore into his as she spoke. "Our people need us. Now more than ever."

"And you offer them help by going against your other people," he replied, evident disapproval accompanying his words.

To anyone outside their group, it would seem as if Aurelius was against her disapproval of the imminent Saxon invasion, but they knew better than to believe that.

She sighed. There was no use arguing an exhausted topic. She turned to the silent man to her right. His light brown, exotic Keralite face stared ahead with its ever-present calm seriousness."Mahavir, ride ahead and see if you can find shelter for the night. We must rest-"

"Aye, that we must," agreed Alcaeus.

"-and then set forth in the morning."

With a silent nod, Mahavir turned his bay horse and rode away. The remaining five stared at the ominous clouds in a momentary revering, unsettling silence as one simple being stares upon a powerful force.

"I do not suppose that we can out ride it, can we, Benedicta?" asked Acacius.

Benedicta shook her head, her gaze fixed ahead. "I am afraid that we cannot escape this one."

•••••••••••

Mahavir had found a cave for them to spend the night. "One the simply commodities that nature grants," Benedicta will often say in such occasions. It was free of any unwanted inhabitants and spacious enough for the company, as well as for the horses, to rest comfortably. Benedicta had collected red berries from some shrubs she spotted near the cave and Percival ventured for a while out into the woods with a bow and a quiver of arrows and brought them back a deer while the remaining others collected water and wood to start a fire. They had all returned by the time the first drop of rain had fallen and the first gust of wind had howled.

After preparing the deer and cooking it over the fire, they had sat down around the flames and ate, talked, laughed, and simply enjoyed each other's company. They decided to bask in the brotherhood and companionship that united them instead of in the business that had brought them to Britain. There was time for the latter, but they felt the inclination to enjoy the former for they knew that their mission was no small task, but a dangerous one.

"I do not know about you, my dear little brother," Alcaeus laughed, throwing an arm around his twin. "But when this ordeal is all over, I will go back to Greece and work until I can buy myself a nice piece of land to farm just like the one our father—may the gods rest his soul— had when we were children."

"Wherever you go, Alcaeus, you know I shall follow," said Acacius with a grin matching that of his older twin.

"Will you marry and have a family?" Percival asked Alcaeus, propping himself up on his elbow.

"Oh, no," Acacius answered for his brother. "He does not deem it fair for only one woman to have claim over him."

There was a collection of amused snorts and snickers from the others. Percival threw a berry at Alcaeus intended to hit his head, yet which he swiftly caught in his mouth.

"And you, Acacius?" Aurelius inquired with a chuckle. "Will you follow in your elder brother's footsteps and entertain different women?"

"No, such lifestyle befits my brother, but not me. I wish to settle down and start a family."

"But you see, my dear friend," Aurelius said. "There is only one problem with that."

Acacius raised a brow in curiosity, his smile never slipping. "Oh, and what is that?"

"Why, you will never know if the children are yours or Alcaeus's."

The smile slipped. Acacius's glanced at his brother before doing a double take, as if seeing him for the first time. Alcaeus cast him a side long glance and smirked while wagging his brows. The others burst in a round of uncontrollable laughter upon seeing the younger twin's expression. Even Mahavir, in his cool demeanor, could not help the ghost of a smile that his lips formed into.

Benedicta watched all this with a slight air of detachment. Though she did find their conversation most amusing, the small smile that adorned her face was due more to the merriment in her companions' countenances than the topic at hand. She did not know of another sound nor sight in this world that could swell her heart with more affection than her men's joyful laughter or the amused glimmer in their eyes.

_Her men._

She swallowed the berry she had been chewing and pursed her lips upon feeling the painful knot that had formed in her throat. Such honor she felt she did not deserve; to be called their leader when she did not rise herself to such a position, but was risen by them nonetheless. To be respected because of the wisdom, love, and compassion they always testified of witnessing in her instead of being viewed as weak or inferior because of her gender and age. She was blessed, for though she had nothing, she felt as though she possessed all the riches in the world.

Yes, she was blessed; blessed to know such a friendship like the one she shared with them. And yet...

She stared at the flames that illuminated the dark tunnel with its orange light and listened to the whistling and thundering of the storm outside. The sound of the men's roaring laughter and teasing jokes slowly disappeared to her.

And yet here she was, leading them to fight in a cause not their own. To perhaps face certain death by the hands of the people whose blood she shared. They trusted her wholeheartedly and indefinitely. They trusted her and it frightened her to no end.

_'Oh, merciful Father,'_ she prayed. _'Once again I ask you to make me into the leader and friend that these men need for I find myself wanting. Guide me so I may guide them. Deliver them from whatever perils they might encounter in this journey and I will forever be grateful. Allow them to find the happiness and peace that they so deserve after our mission is complete in whatever path they decide to take. I ask for nothing else-'_

"-edicta."

_'-for this alone is enough. In the name the Fa-"_

"Benedicta."

Her thoughts were interrupted as she was pulled back from her daze. The men regarded her curiously, but the air was still light and happy. She looked at Acacius, recognizing his voice has having been the one to pull her back into awareness. His eyes shined with amusement upon seeing her confused expression.

"We lost you, my friend," said he. "Are we beginning to bore you?

What has taken you away from us?"

She smiled. "Nothing of the sort, Acacius. I assure you. My mind simply wondered away with me again. Pray, what is it that you said?"

"What will you do after this?" Acacius asked. "Will you stay here in Britain?"

She could feel Aurelies's gaze boring into her. "If God so allows it, I would remain here, yes."

"Why?" Aurelius asked abruptly. "What is in Britain that keeps you here?"

"Nothing, just as well as there is nothing in Sarmatia or Rome-"

"Or Germany;" Alcaeus added.

"No," she pursed her lips in a tight line. "Especially not

Germany. There is nothing for me there."

"But why Britain? You can go wherever you please. Spain, for instance; or Greece!"Acacius exclaimed, his eyes lighting up with a fondness that was always present when he spoke of his homeland. "You would love it there, Benedicta. The warm air. The boundless sky. Miles upon miles of open land. The intricate architecture of the temples. And the sea! It is breathtaking."

Benedicta could not help but smile at his energy. It was something that she always loved about Acacius. His untamable excitement and vitality can always liven anybody's spirits.

"It does sound breathtaking," she agreed. "Yet there is something about this land that simply calls to my very soul. A beauty that I have not been able to find anywhere else."

"Are you sure it is not simply the cold and not beauty which you have found?"

Percival suggested goodheartedly. "Because I do not think I have ever been in a place as cold a Britain. If I miss anything about Sarmatia, it is the warmth of the sun."

"There is something else," she murmured to herself, her eyes beginning to take that distant look.

"What was that?" Percival asked.

Benedicta's gaze returned to the fire. She was silent for a while before she spoke. "There is something else about this land. Something else that has forever bounded me to it."

Unexpectedly, Mahavir was the one to ask. "And what is that?"

"He speaks!" Alcaeus exclaimed, raising his waterskin up in the air as if it were a goblet filled with wine.

She looked up and momentarily glanced at all their faces, a small smile tugging at her lips. "The potential to become something extraordinary."

•••••••••••

"Benedicta? Are you awake?"

"Mm. No," she mumbled.

She could almost hear the smile in his voice. "Then why are you talking?"

"Because you are talking to me." she rolled onto her side so she could face him, but kept her eyes closed. "I do not know about you, but I find it rude to ignore someone when they address you."

"Is that so? I would have happily carried on sleeping."

"Your lack of courtesy worries me, my friend."

He chuckled lightly, a sound that he always seemed to make when he was around her, and rolled onto his side and rested his head on his arm. He looked at her seemingly peaceful face for a silent moment. He learned that, when it came to Benedicta, appearances were not always a source to rely upon. He knew, for instance, that behind that mask of peace and ease was deep embedded worry, fear, and anxiety. But of course, being the person that she was, she would rather carry her troubles herself than share them—not because she was afraid of being seen as weak, but because she did not want to burden others with them.

Her whole essence, he thought, was an enigma in itself.

She was beautiful with the untamable curly hair of a Sarmatian, yet with the yellow-brown color of a Saxon; the pail complexion of a Woad, yet with the defined facial features of a Roman. Oh, yes, she was beautiful; but even such outer beauty could not compare to the beauty she possessed within. She was also young, but behind that youth was a fierceness, a wisdom, and an unwavering loyalty that was beyond her twenty-four years and that he had seldom seen in others.

He remembered the beginnings of their present company—how the others had believed for weeks that he and Benedicta were romantically involved and their skepticism upon being informed that they harbored no such feelings for each other. It was not after months that he had been part of the company that the others—the others except for Benedicta, for he had known her for a long time before then—finally knew why he was the way he was. At the time, it had been exactly three years since that day. He disappeared that morning and did not return until midday the following day.

The others had asked Benedicta about him. Benedicta, feeling that it was not her place to reveal anything, had respected his privacy and said nothing. No, she simply waited for him to return for it was then that she decided that, if they were to trust one other, they had to know everything there was to know about the other.

It was that same night after he returned that she sat them all down around a fire on a hill under the dark Sarmatian sky. That night five years ago, they told their stories. Despite all the time that had passed, he remembered it as vividly as if he were reliving it presently. They lay each other bare before the other and unveiled their scars and still healing wounds. At first, he had been hesitant to trust the others with his secrets, but after some gentle prodding by Benedicta, he finally relented. He told them of his childhood in Britain, of his Roman father and of his Woad mother, of his years in Rome, of his loyalty to God. He told them about _that_ accursed day, about _her_, about his loss, and about the death of his faith.

Afterwards, he felt like his burden had become slightly lighter. He had listened to them with the same intent as they had listened to him. He realized then, when they had all told their stories and sat in meditative silence, that like him, the others had all undertaken the path they were on in order to forget and to heal. He realized that it could be the start of a strong brotherhood.

And so it was.

At the end, he was grateful towards Benedicta because he no longer had to stand the questioning gazes of the others whenever he would disappear while he was in one of his foul moods and he was thankful towards the men because he never once received a look of pity from them. Instead, they had offered their understanding and, if he ever was in need of it, their support. He responded in kind to them.

They all knew, however, that, if it had not been for Benedicta, they would still be as lost as they were before that telltale night. If it had not been for the wisdom she possessed and for knowing when to keep silent and when to speak; when to push and when to be patient, they would simply be a couple of outsiders, of strangers who had stuck together simply because they did not belong anywhere instead of the close friends that they were now. For that reasons, they held her in the high regard that they did.

He sighed as his mind came back to his original thoughts. How easy it would be if it were so; if he truly loved Benedicta in that sense. If he had fallen for her instead of -

"Come back, Aurelius."

He looked at her and found her staring back at him, the fire behind him illuminated in her eyes. She reached out her hand and his met hers half way.

"What troubles you?"

He sighed once again. "This mission... It is suicide."

It was her turn to sigh. "I do not know what else to tell you that I have not told you before. I know that our mission is a dangerous one. I said it from the start, but Merlin needs our help; our people need our help. You were born to this land, Aurelius; or have you forgotten? We must trust in God-"

He pulled his hand away. "Do not speak to me about God, Benedicta."

He lay on his back and stared at the cave ceiling; or perhaps he was simply staring at darkness. A tense silence settled between then. The more it dragged on, the more he cursed himself for his outburst. He was a little startled when Benedicta laid her head on his chest, over his heart, and wrapped her arm around him. He did not waste time in encircling her with his arms, doing so as if by instinct.

"You are my closest friend, Aurelius," she said quietly. "There is nobody that knows me better as you do."

"Benedi-"

"Forgive me."

"There...There is nothing to forgive, Benedicta."

"There is a sadness in you— a pain that is beyond my power to ease and an emptiness that I cannot fill. Even after all this time..."

He suddenly found it hard to swallow.

"I wish I could help carry your burden-"

"You do. You cannot begin to comprehend how much you do."

She raised her head and smiled sadly at him. "But it is not enough, is it? For that emptiness is still there. But I realized sometime ago that that emptiness in your heart is not mine to fill, Aurelius. Everyone has their own cross to carry. You have yours as well as I have mine." She laid her head back on his chest right where it was before, listening to the steady beating of his heart as she has so often done after they had escaped some danger to ascertain that it was still there beating away. "I have you and the men to help ease the burden, but there is only so much others can do." There was a beat of silence. "When all else fails, my faith sustains me."

"I am no longer a man of faith, Benedicta. You know that," he murmured. "I do not need it. Everything I need is right here." She felt a brush of softness against her forehead. "With you and the men."

"And when this is all over?"

He frowned. "What?"

"When we see this mission through; when we all go our separate ways, what then?"

"I do not fo-"

"I will have my faith. What will you have, Aurelius?"

'_Nothing,'_ he thought to himself with a heavy heart, yet he settled for an "I do not know."

"That seems like a sad life to lead, my friend," she murmured as if having read his thoughts and knowing that that was the true answer.

There was another lapse of silence.

"Benedicta?"

He received no reply. She had fallen asleep, but her words stayed with him as if she were repeating them over and over. He closed his eyes tightly.

_'That seems like a sad life to lead...'_

"It is," he whispered brokenly.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

"We do not have much time!" Alcaeus shouted from the door.

Aurelius swore under his breath. "How many are we expecting?"

"Thirty, perhaps?"

"I do not know. I am asking you!"

"Well, by the shouts of them I would say more, but I would rather think positively!" Alcaeus yelled back, irritation tinting his voice.

Aurelius clenched his jaw tightly, refraining from voicing the sarcastic reply that was surely on the type of his tongue. The urgency of their current predicament was enough to come between his usual banter with the Greek and left no room for petty arguments, however tempting it may be.

The shouts persisted from outside the corridor of cells. They had only so little time to see this mission through for Alcaeus, Acacius, and Percival could only hold the doors for so long. As soon as they had shut themselves in, they had gathered anything with enough weigh and placed it, along with themselves, against the doors. Such resistance, Benedicta knew, could not prevail against the strength of thirty or more men.

"Benedicta, you should not have come." Pelagius said this with disapproval, but Benedicta did not miss the overwhelming sense of relief shinning in his eyes.

"And leave you to die? No, my friend. I am getting you out of here," she firmly stated.

"How did you hear of my sentence?"

Her face adopted a crestfallen expression. "It is the talk of many taverns in and outside of Rome."

"I can imagine." He chuckled forlornly, a sad smile in place. "'Saintly man Pelagius' turned heretic."

Dolefully, Benedicta's hold of his hands tightened at the mention of the name that had many times been thrown derisively at the former bishop. Her heart could not help but anguish at the state that he had been reduced to. She had first noticed the loss of weight followed by the paleness. As she had reached for his hands and he for hers, she saw the tremors that had overtaken them. Even now as she held his hands tightly in hers, she could still feel them shake. She did not know how it was that he could still manage to remain upright.

"My child, what is it?" The worry in Pelagius's voice for her sake instead of his clawed at her heart.

"It is nothing. I simply-" She broke off and swallowed thickly. "Oh, how I have miss you, my friend."

"And I you, Benedicta. You have grown into a beautiful young woman and you, Aurelius Aquilla, into a fine young man."

Aurelius forced a smile for his sake and extended a hand into the cell to grip his shoulder. "And you look as strong and as youthful as ever."

Pelagius laughed softly, a raspy sound as if his voice had not produced it in quite some time. "You humor this old man, but I must ask. Where would we go? Germanus is to have to me executed today in front of many spectators. I do not doubt he will search for me in Britannia if he thought it necessary."

"Do not trouble yourself over such a thing," said Benedicta. "If you but ask, I will take you as far away as you wish."

Aurelius turned to the Keralite who was crouched down next to two unconscious guards searching their persons for the key to open the iron cell door. "The key. Have you found it?"

Mahavir's hands continued to search before stopping suddenly. Uneasiness crept up in Benedicta as she watched the Keralite's brows turned into a frown.

"Mahavir? Mahavir, what is it?" she asked.

Mahavir sat back on his heels.

"The key. These guards do not have it."

A pain filled grunt followed those words as one of the guards regained consciousness. Aurelius did not hesitate in grabbing the man by his cape. As was his gentle, patient way, the Roman struck the guard to wake him quicker. The soldier's eyes widened with a wildness of a frightened animal. Aurelius shook his by his cape.

"The key. Where is it?"

The guard remained silent, his startled look now replaced by a defiant one.

"Benedicta!" Alcaeus shouted.

Aurelius's lip curled in growing frustration and anger. Without warning, he pushed the guard down with a speed that caused a resounding thud as the guard's head impacted with the stone floor. The guard released another pained cry and found himself again face to face with the other Roman. "I have no qualms about killing you." And then with a growl and a shake of the cape, he yelled, "Where is the key?!"

"Germanus!" the guard shouted. A streak of blood was now running down the back of his head. "He wanted the privilege of escorting the prisoner to his death himself. He keeps the key as if it were some kind of prize."

Germanus, who was making his way to the prison as they spoke, surrounded by God knows how many guards. Germanus, the bastard who they had no chance in approaching. With an angered scream, Aurelius unsheathed his knife and dug it into the side of the guard's head.

The guard's lifeless body hit the stone floor and a suffocating silence settled between the four present. The only sound was the collection of shouts that came from the other side of the corridor's entrance as he guards attempted to push the doors open.

Aurelius reluctantly looked up to meet the anguish in Benedicta's eyes. Silently, she begged him for a solution to their predicament, an escape from their cruel ordeal, a reassurance that there was something to be done.

With a heavy heart, Aurelius closed his eyes in defeat and shook his head.

•••••••••••

A gentle shaking startled her awake.

"Forgive me," said Aurelius, sincerity lacing his words. "I did not mean to startle you."

Calming her breathing, Benedicta offered a smile to reassure him. "No need to apologize." She looked to the entrance of the cave. "It is already light out," she noted, throwing the cloak that covered her to the side. It did not pass her notice that her hands were slightly trembling.

"The others have taken the horses outside and are preparing to ride out. Mahavir has gone to refill our canteens by the river."

"Why was I not woken sooner?" she asked as she as she took hold of Aurelius's outstretched hand and stood.

Aurelius regarded her momentarily, his eyes searching hers for something unbeknownst to her. He then said, "You have not been sleeping well since we stepped on the shores of this land. The nights that you do sleep, you are restless. The mornings after, your eyes are as tired as they are now."

Benedicta hoped that the false smile she sported was convincing. "I have a lot on my mind is all. As you and the men do. The likelihood of war tends to chase away a peaceful night's sleep."

'And bring back memories of death one would rather not dwell on,' she thought.

"Still," continued Aurelius. "You know you can share your worries with me."

Her smile softened and she could not help but reach out and take his hand in hers. He returned her smile with a small, yet sincere one of his own. "I know," she said and tightened her hold on his hand before releasing it. "I am going to put these away and see if Mahavir needs help."

A strange emotion flashed through Aurelius eyes so quickly, Benedicta could not decipher before it was gone. She regarded him curiously, questioning whether or not she had imagined it. "What is it?" she asked.

"Nothing," Aurelius dismissed. "You should gather the remainder of your things. We will head out in a while."

Benedicta nodded and turned to gather her cloak. "I am eager to see Guinevere again," she said as she fastened both ends of the woolen material to her right shoulder by an eagle shaped clasp. "I wonder how she has be-"

She halted when she found herself alone in the empty cave.

•••••••••••

Aurelius was nowhere in sight by the time Benedicta stepped outside.

"Here is the beauty that Morpheus himself dreams of and who Aphrodite envies."

"Good morning to you as well, Alcaeus," said Benedicta with a laugh. She made her way over to her three friends who were occupied tying their bags to the horses.

"Your horse is ready, Benedicta," Percival informed her.

"Thank you, Perce. In what direction did Mahavir head towards?"

"He went to the stream. That way," said Acacius pointing to where the forest floor gradually descended.

She found Mahavir a few minutes later, leaned against a large boulder adjacent to the stream and gazing at the water. She made her way to the edge of the stream and crouched down over the water. A chorus of birds sang their various melodies and the rays of sun that broke through the forest's foliage were growing brighter and brighter.

"It seems so peaceful," she murmured

Mahavir's keen ears heard nonetheless. "It is the calm before the storm. Soon the valleys will be filled with the sound of war drums and the sky will be covered in black smoke."

Silence followed those words. Benedicta looked to her right, up the elevated floor of the woods where the waters of the stream descended from. Mahavir regarded her momentarily−her lips formed into a grim line, her jaw tense and clenched, and her eyes sad and troubled−before realizing that this was Benedicta, unguarded and unpretending. This realization was soon followed by another: this had not been the first time it was so. More and more he was beginning to notice that Benedicta would crumble her walls before him instead of Aurelius. A part of him, that part that time would so often prove to be an eerie sense of foresight, told him that Aurelius would one day notice this too.

"Do you recent me, Mahavir?" At the Keralite's impassiveness, she elaborated. She regarded him over her shoulder, that same haunted expression in place. "Do you recent me for bringing you here to fight a war that is irrelevant to you?"

"We are here by free will. You know this."

She opened her mouth before her eyes gazed away, as if pondering something, and promptly closing it. Mahavir, however, did not need words to know the root of her distress. He watched her as she ran her hand lazily over the steadily running water.

"This is about Aurelius."

It had been for some time now.

Mahavir was observant; extremely so. He could recall the burdened glances she would send Aurelius when he was not looking, the times she would open her mouth only to swallow the words she needed to say, how she would try to lighten his load and would every so often succeed in both doing so and heaving her own.

She stilled at this, halting her hand and letting the water run around it and between her fingers. "You say that you are here by free will," she said with a tired sigh, erecting herself and turning around to face him. 'Yet he finds many an occasion to question me."

"He questioned his God," he reminded her. "It should not come as a surprise for him to question a mere mortal, even if it is you." He paused before asking, "Do you doubt your decision to come here?"

"Never," she said with no hesitation. "If not for this, what do I have to live for? What cause do I fight for? I do not, on that final day, wish to leave this life knowing that I have accomplished naught. That I leave this world the same way as I entered it. That my life has been meaningless. Vain. I want to live a good life, Mahavir. One of purpose." She offered him a small smile, though strain as it was. "I know this is the path God as chosen for me and I trust in it."

"And we trust you. Aurelius does also."

Her smile turned into a grim expression. "As you said before. He questions me."

He nodded once in accord. "Yes, he does. He questions you, but follows you regardless. Questioning and doubting are two distinct things."

"I wonder..." She shook her head. "No, there is nothing to wonder about. That trust that he has towards me…It is misplaced."

"That is not true," Mahavir stated firmly, the slight furrow of his brows deepening.

She chuckled, the sound coming out hollow. "But he would think so. If he knew…" She looked away and shook her head. "Oh, God. If he knew." She swallowed the knot that had suddenly formed in her throat. "He would ask the same questions that I asked myself when I would look into his eyes for a long time after that wretched day. What if I had been fast enough? What if I had done things differently? What if it would have saved her? What if…What if part of me did not want to?"

She walked over the few rocks to that stood between her and the earthy shore, her eyes downcast. She leaned against the larger rock which Mahavir had his back against. "I questioned my integrity on that day for some time, Mahavir." Her eyes followed the river's direction downstream; her words were spoken so softly, so quietly that they seemed to be carried away by the water. "I know now that that guilt that I felt−that I still feel until this day−is because he wants her and instead has me."

She turned her head towards him and her haunted eyes locked into his knowing ones. "I know now what happened that day. I know what it is that I did and what I did not. I know what my intensions were. But will he know? Will he not doubt me after he hears the truth? The whole truth?" Her voice trembled slightly. "If he turned his back to our God for taking her away, what is to stop him from doing the same to me for letting her die?"

"You did not le-"

"Benedicta! Mahavir!"

The calls came from a slight distance from them. Benedicta swiftly detached herself from the rock and walked over to the edge of the stream. Breathing deeply, she gathered her bearings and turned to face Percival.

The Sarmatian stood over the large rock. His eyes, she decided with relief, gave off no indication that he detected anything amiss.

"We are packed and ready to ride out," he informed them.

Benedicta nodded, a smile in place. "Thank you, Percival."

Mahavir, his eyes never leaving Benedicta, grabbed Percival's waterskin and tossed it upwards. Percival caught it effortlessly. "We best not keep the others waiting," Mahavir adviced. "They may worry." His gaze briefly met Benedicta's and knew that she understood who he was truly referring to.


End file.
